Monse (back) to Oscar de la Renta...where they belong.

Laura Kim and Fernando Garcia

 Enough with the bullshit. Ok, I've said it. Yeah, but what bullshit you ask? The story that just ran in the NYTimes about Laura Kim and her sidekick and ex-fiance Fernando Garcia returning in triumph to the waiting arms of Alex Bolen, tough-love Dad, son-in-law and acting toll collector at Oscar de la Renta. After a gloriously banal performance at Carolina Herrera, having taken the wheel for a season and a half, they are returning to the fold that spawned them. Like Zika, they hatched, flew around the immediate neighborhood infecting any and all in their paths, and now are returning to that puddle of standing water from whence they came. When Oscar lived it was a crystal clear pool but now... Why the harsh words? Because this is precisely the diseased behavior and magical thinking that has undermined the business of fashion.

Carolina Herrera

The piece written by Matthew Schneier is a regulation 'birth notice' of sorts, more press release than story touching on the few things that can't be disputed: They worked at Oscar for several years, Laura Kim became the creative director and Fernando chased celebs, Oscar became ill, Laura and Fernando auditioned for the permanent post of creative director and celeb chaser but were passed over for Peter Copping, Oscar's hand-picked successor, Laura and her celeb chasing fiance start their own 'brand' and jump ship to consult at Carolina Herrera, usurping Herve' Pierre, the creative director at CH for the past 14 years and one of the greatest working designers on either shore. The Kim/Garcia fit at Carolina must have been poor as they produced a forgettable couple of collections. The culture at Herrera is old school in the best possible way. A devoted staff directed by a very professional seasoned team led by Herve Pierre ran that ship without incident. The collections were ready on schedule and were eagerly awaited by stores and clients. Carolina Herrera is that rare company that worked civilized hours leading up to the show. Late nights and weekends were alien to their process. Imagine a company that could actually be ready for their presentation with samples made, fitted and styled on the models with time to spare. Images below illustrate the beauty and modernity that was CH under the capable hands of Herve Pierre and his team. The sophistication and chic of the collection is a stark contrast to the Resort 2017 collection by Kim and Garcia. The Resort 2017 collection, their first at the house, debuted weeks later than CH's customary timing, with a look both derivative and strangely flat and received with little  fanfare.

Herve Pierre's CH Spring 2016

Herve Pierre's CH Spring 2016

Herve Pierre's CH Spring 2016

Herve Pierre's CH Spring 2016

With Laura and Fernando the ship went aground almost immediately. As is customary with new hires some of the old regime has to go. Executives, design assistants and boutique staff were dismissed or left because of low morale and an environment of uncertainty. Digging around in the press I searched for the message, the grand design they had for CH. I didn't find one. It seems that Monse (Mon-say) is their priority and these 'jobs' are a means to finance their fledgling brand. CH was clearly a means to an (early) end. They got their paychecks and CH got, well she got what she got. And now Oscar de la Renta will assist with the grunt work of Monse in order to have the benefit of their vision and leadership. Think Galliano, think Raf Simons, think LVMH. Think again.

Kim and Garcia's CH Resort 2017

Monse Spring 2016

 The reviews for Monse were fawning, overblown and judging from the collection, overstated. The reviews they received for their CH Resort 2017 were luke warm in comparison. A few celebs wearing the clothes on the red carpet is nice but ultimately doesn't mean much. Freebies have always been a hit in Hollywood. Selling clothes in stores used to be the metric for success. Now you just need buzz and the press will anoint you. The story implies that they returned to Oscar having succeeded at CH. On the contrary. They were asked to leave CH before returning to Oscar. This was many things but it was not a victory lap.
It's fitting that they have returned to the house that Oscar built.  At least their culture is in sync with that of Alex Bolen, whose reputation preceeds him, and the shell that remains of that once powerful company. Peter Copping wasn't so bad. He benignly maintained the status quo and that's all that Oscar really is good for at this point. It's not about news and it's not new and hasn't been for several years. It's telling that Oscar did not choose them to take the helm. He must have had his reasons. Judging from their work so far, I'd say he knew what he was doing. Oscar's words of encouragement Kim shares in the piece sound more like encouragement than a benediction. SPIN is everything.

SJParker's collaboration with Kim and Garcia for Met Gala

I'm kind of curious to see what sort of clothes they'll offer up. Whether it speaks to the clients or not, the press is sure to love it. The depressing thought that I can't shake is the real loser in all of this: the client. Herve Pierre gave her what she needed and what she didn't even know she wanted. Now there's nothing for her but a lot of buzz and nothing to wear. Sounds kind of familiar, no? Something about new clothes for the Emperor or was it Empress.

Copping to Oscar... Fall/Winter 2015

I suppose next to the shows of Marc Jacobs, Carolina Herrera, Proenza Schouler, Tom Browne, Calvin Klein, Alexander Wang, Joseph Altuzzara and Jason Wu, the debut collection of Peter Copping for Oscar de la Renta was the hottest ticket of the season. So much anticipation and speculation roiled the denizens of Park Avenue and points farther east, south and west. What would he do? How would he handle the enormous pressure of moving the storied house forward. Would Annette, Oscar's still-in-mourning widow and all of her ladies in waiting give the nod to Mr. Copping? Forget the singing, the dancing, and courtliness of that legendary man of the world. Those arts died with him. Instead, what of Oscar's 6th sense for knowing precisely what his Ladies wanted, needed and craved? Could this Englishman schooled in the subtle art of French Haute Couture come to this raucous land of snap crackle pop and actually make an argument for the house's future? The answer to that question is a qualified yes.

Qualified simply because it was neither a triumph or a failure. The 47 looks added up to a safe, at times sparkling, but most often an almost quaint display of artistry. The first looks out with their lovely, weightless silk and lace trimmed blouses over short bias striped wool skirts had a youthful quality. So delicately wrought were those blouses that they looked untouched by human hands. That's technique at its best. Perhaps the absence of jackets or coats over those looks gave them that schoolgirl feel that every matron over the age of 60 craves. Though lengths were short, the high waists added that extra above that had so skillfully been excised  below. One detail seemed to cancel out the other and all in the same piece. Then came the suits, the suit and coat dresses and printed silk dresses. Sweet but redolent of the days of Jack Mulqueen and the $150.00 silk dress, a working girl's dream! With prim coats in plaids and fur trim circling the hems and cuffs, this was not so much a fashion question as it was a style statement; familiar and yet hackneyed.  Styling becomes a thorn at this moment as that sense of mad mixing and matching begins to color and underwhelm the work.

The Lady never slips off her pedestal. Instead that pedestal becomes crowded with the "codes" of the house we hear so incessantly about: sweetheart necklines, skinny belted uptight suits with little sex appeal, jeweled pumps and smart bags of indeterminate origin. Cocktail dresses abounded in racy lace, nude appearing bodices armed with boning to keep all that order in order. About now I started to yawn.

Gowns followed with many in black and white. For all those women who beg to have a dress with sleeves, well, come and get it. Copping showed his ability as a colorist with rich saturated mixes in short and long dresses. Nice. Where I found issue was that some of the colorations felt like timid YSL mixes and shapes smacked of older Oscars by way of new Diorisms. Nice but not great. Nicole Phelps of Style.com fame went further to question the fit of the clothes. The clothes fit. The studio there is so deeply schooled in the discipline of quality, make and fit that questioning that is utter nonsense. But like Vanessa Friedman of the New York Times, Ms. Phelps is a dilettante better suited to chronicling her own outfits than analyzing others, like the pot calling the kettle a plate.

Perhaps in time the collection Peter Copping wants to propose will appear without the weight of other's expectations, mine included.

Exodus: The winter of our discontent.

Cathy Horyn

Has anyone besides me, Catherine, Jolain and others noticed that before the credits rolled the theater emptied? Where did everyone go? That goes for all of NYFW.....

Ok, so I did see a few shows, CH and RR along with a few others (Bibhu Mohapatra, Duckie Brown and some others not worth mentioning). They were each moving in their own ways. Ralph Rucci, of course, was the most moving, but in a static, frozen in time way. Carolina Herrera had some great moments that were so chic, so interesting, starting with an exaggerated Fez on the heads of many of the girls parading in DELUXE daytime clothes. Great fur treatments on cashmere coats, a turtleneck cashmere sweater that all but made the notion of a coat redundant. Day in the world of CH is more compelling than evening where the hand can become a tiny bit ham-fisted. Still it is the pervasive feel of chic, even modern at times, propriety that persuasively makes the argument for luxury. Ms Herrera is a classy Lady and her team led by Herve Pierre and crew are clearly a joyful gang with none of the angst that has riddled so much of the industry. Maybe that's because Mrs. H has nothing to prove. When you have IT why bother? It's a European sensibility that many of us inhabiting the New World are still centuries away from embodying.

Eric Wilson

The Ralph Rucci collection, due its own individual analysis, is interesting in a similar way with the exception that most every exit was its own show, its own statement on the nature of modernity in a time of social decay. I say static in that his themes were further developed, refined and distilled making the message, the sheer beauty and brilliance of idea/execution that much more obvious to see. The show staged in his own studio, a space that defies description other than to say it is part laboratory, part gallery and part heaven, was much more intimate than the tents so the clothes passed so close to you it was possible to see the texture of the fabrics, hear the rustle of fabrics and the sound of crystals and beads whispering to one another. It left me not so much stunned as satisfied.

Suzy Menkes

The strangest part of all was the absence of critical eyes. Ms. Horyn was not in attendance having left the Times only a week before to be with her partner, only for him to pass away within the following week. Her exit was the end of an era, or the end of an error, depending on how one chooses to look at it; glass half empty or glass bone dry. Though the uproar over her departure was such that some lamented that hers was the last voice of intelligent, objective discourse/criticism. Others mourned that fashion criticism is now the domain of ignorant uninformed bloggers. There may be some truth in that...

Watching Suzy Menkes shuffle in, then reading her reviews that parroted the hackneyed Horyn-isms (cutting on the "round" and "couture shapes", tropes, the notion of, etc.) and happy talk was distressing but not unexpected. Eric Wilson moved on to greener pastures too. I miss him. Eric's is an intelligent voice that is surprisingly objective. Rarely did he print a review that was oblique and freighted with meaning that couldn't be deciphered. I never had to read him twice... I even miss Cathy. She at least supplied the catnip for me and others to rake our claws over. I also feel for her Greek chorus weighing in on her blog with comments so dense in language and meaning that only she could "get at" what they attempted to "get at". I call them the Horyns of Babylon. Mrs. Menkes I understand is/has jumped ship to join Conde Nast so that completes the circle. The vacuum that's left is as disturbing as the legion of uninspired "designers" tossing looks down the runway like a pot of uncooked spaghetti at the wall; nothing much sticks just a mess on the floor to step in like the lazy entitled zombies in Brooklyn Heights whom no longer feel responsible for picking up after their mutts.

Europe, Paris in particular, is another story altogether. A story with a beginning, middle and end.